


I've Created a Monster

by LesMisgayrables



Series: I've Created a Monster [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Bad Spanish, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Star Wars References, aww cute fumbling porn aw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesMisgayrables/pseuds/LesMisgayrables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A metaphor on learning, using Kant's theory of a priori and a posteriori justifications. Within, you shall find Man's relationship with knowledge: the novelty of discovery, the reasoning and bargaining that comes before accepting something, and the enrichment of previous knowledges.</p><p>Alternatively: Enjolras's slow descent into great sex, and discovery of hidden talents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thirty-Day Trial

**Author's Note:**

> A month into their relationship, Enjolras decides he wants it: the D. He is ready for the D to make an appearance in his life. He wants to be touched... *down there*.  
> Okay, sorry, I'm so sorry about the idiocy of the summary and this past paragraph. It's not an inaccurate summary, granted, because that's... basically where inspiration came from (how you go from Kant to sex, I have no idea; it just happened) and basically what lies herein, but I swear I don't evade the word sex. This has been sitting in my hard drive for, like, six months.
> 
> So, yeah, this is the first chapter of a fic whose only purpose is porn. It's, like, 25K words of pure porn. Oh, god, how did it come to this. My mental mother is not proud. Happy fifth of June, lmao.

Grantaire hummed into the kiss and Enjolras replied in kind before drawing back his tongue and pulling away. Grantaire chased the kiss, but Enjolras started nuzzling his neck.

“How about we skip that movie?”

Grantaire swallowed. “In favour of doing what?” he asked with a whisper. Enjolras’s hands twisted the fabric at the back of Grantaire’s shirt.

“I want to try it.” Grantaire felt Enjolras’s face heat up from where it was still buried in his neck. Grantaire breathed in and out before slipping his fingertips underneath the hem of the blond’s shirt and caressing the soft skin. Enjolras’s breath stuttered.

“Are you sure?” he shrugged the shoulder Enjolras was resting upon, making him look up. He was flushed to the roots of his hair, which made Grantaire smile, even though he was pretty nervous himself. “You really don’t have to—”

“I really do. Let’s go to bed,” and with that, he pulled Grantaire to his room, closed and locked the door, made sure his curtains were closed, turned on the bedside lamp, checked the straightness of his clothes, made sure the room was clean, joined his hands on his back, and looked at Grantaire expectantly. Grantaire, who had stared as all this happened, was now quite obviously stifling laughter. Thankfully he didn’t say anything, but instead humoured Enjolras and beckoned him closer. When the blond got within arms reach, he tugged him as close as he could and just held him there; he nuzzled along his jaw, cheek, ear, and kissed the skin delicately whenever he felt like it. Enjolras closed his eyes after a moment and nuzzled back for a few short seconds, brushed his nose along Grantaire’s, and kissed his lips softly. _I trust you_ , the kiss said.

Grantaire understood; his eyelids fluttered. He gave him a firm kiss, followed by another softer one. _I’ve got you_ , it said. Enjolras let out all his breath through the nose and loosened up. They met in a deep kiss. Grantaire’s warm, large hands framed Enjolras’s face in a way that turned his insides into putty and his brain into goo, and made his limbs feel boneless. He whimpered and hugged Grantaire to him, pouring everything into the kiss. Nervousness was still creeping in his mind, but he focused on the feeling of Grantaire’s hands, Grantaire’s lips, Grantaire’s breathing, Grantaire’s body warmth. Thinking of the latter made him crave for more.

His hands roamed Grantaire’s back before finding the hem of his shirt and gripping it. Grantaire was used to Enjolras touching his back underneath his shirt, shyly, but definitely touching; so when Enjolras didn’t move his hands from the cotton, he broke away with a lingering kiss and murmured to the flushed skin of his cheek.

“Do you want me to take it off?” Enjolras’s couldn’t vocally answer, so his hands tightened their grip and he nodded once. Grantaire leaned away and pulled off his shirt. He observed Enjolras’s reaction closely for any sign of doubt. He quickly started feeling self-conscious when all Enjolras did was stare at him, even when he knew he wasn’t half bad, or even bad at all. He still felt the ridiculous urge to apologize. Enjolras spoke before he had the chance.

“That’s hair…” he trailed off. Grantaire blushed and shifted in his place.

“Uh, yeah, I wouldn’t say I’m a gorilla, but… yeah, hair. I used to trim. It’s pretty useless on me, though. Once, I waxed. Well, Éponine waxed me all over –I mean, chest only. I’m never doing that again, though; ever. I could, um, I don’t know, shave, or something? It’s—”

“No, don’t—don’t do that,” he scratched the back of his neck and looked away, like a character out of a movie. “It’s just… I don’t know; hair is normal? I mean, you look—it’s… it’s really awesome, or something.”

“Did you say awesome?”

“I don’t know how to say it. I mean, I _do_ , but I won’t say it. Just… that’s kind of awesome,” he said, pointing lamely to his chest.

It hit Grantaire like a ton of bricks: Enjolras liked his men hairy. He giggled. _He can’t say hot so he said awesome, ooo, that’s funny_ , he thought to himself. He grinned and only barely restrained his urge to preen. He walked to Enjolras and just stood there, definitely in his personal space. Enjolras looked like he didn’t know what he was allowed to do, so he did nothing at all; not even look—though he kept stealing glances at his chest and the very pretty dusting of dark hair there.

“Compliment acknowledged and very gladly accepted,” spoke Grantaire. Enjolras blushed profusely, but still wouldn’t look at him. “And, you know, you’re allowed to look. You can actually touch, too. I won’t even charge you.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and finally found the strength to meet his gaze. They stayed like that for a few seconds, but Grantaire took Enjolras’s hands and placed them over his pectorals. Enjolras flushed shyly again, but slowly moved his palms up and down, observing his own movements closely.

“Sorry about all the awkwardness,” he said awkwardly, “I’ve just… never done this? I shouldn’t be embarrassed, I know, but—”

“I get it. It’s okay. Don’t apologize,” said Grantaire softly. “Now, I’m going to distract you, yeah? You won’t even notice you’re nervous.”

“Okay,” he replied firmly. Grantaire kissed him slow and deep, and Enjolras couldn’t help falling and floating away. Grantaire’s lips were making him dizzy, turning him into goo; the real world faded to the back of his brain, leaving room for pure sensation. He felt Grantaire’s fingers fiddling with his shirt buttons, and he felt him unbuttoning them, but he was so lost in the kiss that it barely registered in his mind. Grantaire’s fingers brushed against his nipples, which made him gasp and shudder.

“I didn’t know I was sensib—”

Grantaire’s lips didn’t let him finish the thought. He groaned, buried his hands in Grantaire’s sinfully dark curls, and rubbed up against him, trying to slot their chests together while maintaining their deep, wet kiss. It was proving to be impossible. Grantaire did a particularly good _something_ with his tongue—which made him groan again—before breaking the kiss and trailing his wet lips down Enjolras’s neck. He bit down with his lips and sucked gently, moved to another spot and did it again. Enjolras had his head tipped back languidly and his eyes closed.

The blond’s hands eventually slipped from Grantaire’s hair and trailed down his own chest to brush against the waistband of his own jeans. Grantaire’s hands, previously keeping Enjolras’s head still, travelled down his arms, raising goose bumps on their way, and caressed Enjolras’s own hands for a second before toying with his belt buckle. Enjolras let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah?” whispered Grantaire against his ear. His closed eyelids fluttered and his breath stuttered.

“Yeah.”

Grantaire deftly unbuckled his belt. He used it to pull Enjolras closer to the bed as he slid it off, which was a surprising turn-on for Enjolras. They kissed lastingly.

“Take your time,” said Grantaire as he popped open the button and lowered the zipper, “and only follow me when you’re ready.” With that, he climbed onto the bed, shoved off his shoes and socks, and leaned on the headboard, hands cushioning his head, smiling invitingly. Enjolras did allow himself to ogle this time.

A man. A half-naked man in his bed. A really fit, hairy man smirking up at him from his own bed, wearing nothing but faded jeans. He wondered and praised how his life managed to bring him to this moment. He didn’t think about it for long, of course. He finished shrugging off his shirt and looked at Grantaire again, who was still looking up at him lazily. He felt his prick twitch insistently—he hadn’t even noticed he was hard. Speaking of: he glanced down at the front of Grantaire’s trousers. What he saw literally made his mouth water copiously (he was weirded out by that odd reaction) and suddenly he couldn’t climb on to the bed fast enough. He shoved off his shoes, socks and trousers, leaving only the pants on, and quickly climbed up the bed, trapping Grantaire between his knees and hands.

“Now what?” he breathed out. Grantaire smiled and freed his right hand from behind his head, bringing it up to cup Enjolras’s head, instead. Enjolras leaned up to the touch.

“You’re sure you—”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then,” he said, before lifting his head, pulling Enjolras down, and kissing him like his life depended on it. Enjolras moaned loudly and kissed back just as desperately. Grantaire slid down the headboard and brought Enjolras down with him. He broke the kiss and pushed the blond off him, but before he could ask if something was wrong, Grantaire sat up, pushed him onto his back, and climbed atop him.

Enjolras looked to either side of his head, at Grantaire’s ridiculously strong arms holding his weight up; he looked down, at Grantaire’s clothed legs bracketing his exposed ones; he looked up, at Grantaire’s dark eyes and red lips staring down at him with much the same expression as he, he was positive. Being completely surrounded by Grantaire, in every sense, was something he was quickly falling in love with. He started panting. Grantaire, good god, he whimpered and leaned down to kiss Enjolras again quickly, before pushing himself up to look at the vision below him once more. The vision clearly had no patience. The vision grasped his shoulders and pulled him all the way down.

Their practically naked bodies slotted together like pieces of a puzzle. The warmth from each other’s bodies made their souls sing—or maybe that was just their nerve endings exploding. They pushed and pulled and tugged and gripped and rubbed each other freely, their mouths claiming anything they could come in contact with. They were rubbing their hips together; Grantaire was biting on Enjolras’s shoulder and Enjolras was mouthing at his jaw when one of Grantaire’s stealthy hands slithered under his partner’s pants. Enjolras gasped.

“Can I?”

Grantaire’s voice was so hoarse, the only reason Enjolras knew it was his was because they were the only ones there. He whimpered an affirmative, canting his hips up. Grantaire bit his shoulder sharply and tugged the tight pants down; Enjolras helped him kick them off. He felt a warm, dry hand closing in around his painfully hard erection and moaned loudly.

“Do you have lube?” asked Grantaire. Enjolras’s left arm shot to his night table and hastily opened the second drawer. “It’ll feel better if—” a bottle of lube was pressed into his hand. He squirted some onto his fingers and rubbed them for a few seconds before enclosing Enjolras again. He jerked him off slowly, but apparently it was still very good to Enjolras.

“Oh, my,” he said weakly. Grantaire dissimulated his grin by kissing the man’s cheek, temple, cheekbone, jaw, shoulder, shoulder, shoulder, neck, cheek.

“I got you,” he said softly, immediately feeling disgusted with himself for falling into the ‘I got you’ cliché. His disgust didn’t last for long, though, because Enjolras moaned loudly and his whole body jerked.

 “Oh, god. Grantaire, R, Grantaire, Grantaire,” he panted in time with Grantaire’s hands’ movements, clenching his eyes shut and straining his head far back. Grantaire drank in the sight eagerly, occasionally nibbling his partner’s bared neck. Enjolras’s legs, bent close to his body, occasionally trashed and scraped the bed; his left hand, which had been clenching the sheets, snapped away and gripped Grantaire’s shoulder forcefully, the other hand pulling at his own hair. “I’m gonna—gonna…” he let out a loud whimper as his muscles contracted, followed by a broken groan as he came. His entire body fell limp back to the bed and his shallow breaths started evening out. Grantaire moaned quietly.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he breathed. Enjolras, who was already flushed, blushed even further. “You’re so vocal. Fuck.”

“Sorry,” he murmured embarrassedly. Grantaire blinked twice.

“Don’t apologize. Jesus.” Enjolras took another deep breath and looked down.

“You’re still in your trousers,” he said almost with a pout and tried to push the trousers down his hips. Grantaire chuckled.

“It’s fine.”

“No. I need to return the favour,” he said. Grantaire tried to pry his hands away, but he insisted.

“Apollo, it’s your first time. It’s fine if you don’t do anything,” he said. Enjolras huffed. “Next time, if you want. If there is a next time. It’s oka—”

“Of course there’ll be a next time. But I don’t want to wait ‘til then; I want to touch you.”

“Next time, Enjolras. Now enjoy the afterglow.” Enjolras breathed out heavily and looked at Grantaire’s crotch area wistfully. Grantaire noticed and blushed shyly, but he took off his trousers so he could lie down next to Enjolras. He looked at the blond anxiously. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to ask this, but… was that, um, was that okay?” Enjolras looked at him with a pitying grimace and he immediately started talking again, “It was just a handjob. There’s lots of other stuff that you would maybe like more – and actually, first times aren’t that good for many people? But it gets better, I promise, and—”

“Stop, stop, stop. Why would you even think I didn’t, er… _enjoy_ that?” he looked away, “That was… I can’t believe you call it ‘just’ a handjob. I’ve seriously underestimated these kinds of, you know, activities.”

“So it was fine? About 8/10, would recommend? Might try it again sometime?”

“Handjobs are 10/10; I wildly recommend them, yes, and I’d like to try it again sometime.” Enjolras joked. Grantaire laughed breathlessly. They were silent for a few minutes, both looking out the window and at the waning moon. “So that’s sex,” said Enjolras casually. Grantaire looked over.

“Not really. I mean, _yes_ , but… it’s just a handjob.”

“I can’t believe we went a month without doing that,” he said. “Actually, I can’t believe I went twenty-three years without doing that.” Grantaire laughed and poked his ribs absently. “We should’ve done that on our first date.”

“Oh, that would’ve been fun. It was a nice date,” smiled Grantaire. “You were a bit tipsy, though, so you wouldn’t have consented.”

He hummed in response. They closed their eyes for a minute. “I love your hands,” he said with a little smile. Grantaire grinned.

“Do you love my hands just because—”

“That’s now half the reason, yes,” he blushed. Grantaire chuckled. He felt Enjolras’s delicate fingers trail along the exposed part of his happy trail, up and down, and up, and down. He breathed deeply and urged his dick to calm the fuck down, please.

“Are you attempting to torture me? Because it’s working,” he said as casually as he could. Enjolras flushed, but he scratched on Grantaire’s skin with intent.

“Actually, no, I was just enjoying the happy trail I never had,” he said casually. Grantaire turned to smile at him adoringly. “If you’re up for it, though—and you clearly _are up_ for it, by the looks of things—”

“Christ, that was a terrible pun,” Grantaire covered his face in mock second hand embarrassment.

“—I can assist in alleviating you from your _hard_ and pressing needs—”

“You are the literal worst.”

“—you’d be in _good hands_. You know, we complement each other: I have a _firm grasp_ on reality while you have a _stiffness_ about you that—”

“First of all, you’re super embarrassing. Second of all, if anyone’s a stiff idiot, that would be you. _I_ have the firm grasp on reality.”

“You ruin every moment.”

“Maybe there’ll come a time when I don’t ruin a moment, who knows. Wanna stay around until that day comes?” he asked lightly. He could almost hear Enjolras’s eye-roll.

“That’s a terrible pick-up line.”

“Not a pick-up line. I’ve already picked you up. And my lines shall be proportionally terrible to your sexual puns, from now on.”

“You know you laughed. I have more. Wanna hear them?” teased Enjolras.

“Oh, please. Do share.”

Enjolras brushed his lips against his neck. “Well, I forget them. I usually only remember them after orgasming. You’re free to help me remember. Anytime.” Grantaire blushed vibrantly.

“You’re making this very hard for me.”

“I can see.”

Grantaire groaned. “Why did it seem like a good idea to sleep with an idiot nerd? Why, oh, why?” Enjolras snickered and hugged him closer.

 

 

 

It was only two days later when they tried something again, in the dark and under the covers—under the blond’s insistence. Enjolras took it upon himself to divest Grantaire of everything except his boxers, and the other man did the same thing, letting Enjolras go at his own pace. Enjolras ground his hips down to Grantaire’s and let out a breathy ‘ _oooh_ ’, doing it again and again; he grunted when Grantaire gripped his buttocks and pulled him down as he slowly rolled his own hips upwards, creating the most delicious friction yet.

“Fuck,” he hissed and urged Grantaire to do it again, groaning loudly. “I like that.”

Grantaire sneaked his right hand under Enjolras’s tight underwear and ran his hand up and down the curve of his arse a few times, before he moved and grasped his erection, making the other’s breath hitch immediately. He stroked two, three times carefully; enough to have Enjolras panting. He shushed him gently and pushed him off and onto his back, taking his hand away in the process.

“What did I do?” asked Enjolras, slightly alarmed. Grantaire shook his head and ducked under the covers. “I’m sor—where are you going? _Oh,_ ” he breathed out when he felt the man’s breath over his nipple, and squirmed when he felt something wet swipe over it, humming when it switched to suckling for a few seconds and giving the same treatment to the other one, while a hand travelled lightly down his abdomen, following the invisible happy trail that he always wanted. He squirmed again when he felt Grantaire’s whole body slither downwards before pulling down his pants. He helped him by raising his hips, letting him pull them completely off and throw them out of the bed. He shivered nervously when he felt Grantaire’s ticklish hair on the inside of his thighs. “Oh, oh, okay, I get it. I get it. What do I do?”

“Nothing,” came a muffled voice from below, followed by a soft, inexplicable moan. “Just enjoy, or whatever.”

“Okay, I can do that,” he spoke distractedly and distantly wondered why he felt Grantaire’s forearm pushing his hips down. He felt something warm and wet surround his head and immediately sucking. He let out a surprised exclamation and bucked his hips up, but to no avail; they wouldn’t lift. He felt more than heard the responding moan from Grantaire. His hands clenched on the duvet. Grantaire pulled away and Enjolras whimpered.

“I think you already like this better than handjobs,” said he. Enjolras could do nothing but whimper again, scraping his talons on the bed. Grantaire mouthed at the base of his cock, slowly making his way upwards. He took the head in again, sucked, and moved his head forward as far as he could. Enjolras moaned loudly and bucked his hips again, but he was trapped. Grantaire started bobbing his head up and down, slowly, always sucking, and somehow managing to do both that and preventing Enjolras’s hips to jerk forward, which kept trying to push into it.

“I’m getting close, I’m close, close,” the blond started babbling, eyes clenched shut as tightly as his fists. Grantaire let go of him again. “No!” Enjolras whined, drawing out the word, and pushed his hips upward as soon as he felt Grantaire lift his arm. “Please, please, please, please.”

Grantaire chuckled. “Nope, I find that I quite like sucking you off, so I’m gonna make it last as long as I please.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” he pleaded. Grantaire laughed amusedly and started licking at his inner thigh, nipping at the sensible skin, suckling on the hollow next to the left hip – and getting a gasp out of Enjolras with that.

Enjolras clearly got frustrated after a minute, because he shoved both hands under the covers and pulled Grantaire back up by the hair. He took it all in good nature and laughed, but Enjolras had none of it and immediately shoved his tongue down Grantaire’s throat, leading the filthy kiss enthusiastically; and before he could think about what he was doing, he raked his left hand down his boyfriend’s back and under his pink boxers, pawing at the fleshy right cheek with fervour and twisting his arm slightly so that the very next second he had Grantaire’s painfully hard length in hand.

“Shit, fuck,” cursed the brunet and broke the kiss, looking down at Enjolras’s glassy eyes in disbelief. “When did you get so good at snogging?” he breathed out. “Also, your hand is in my pants.”

Enjolras thumbed at the tip with just a little too much pressure, making Grantaire buck into his hand and grunt brokenly. Enjolras recaptured his lips and miraculously managed to coordinate his mouth and his left hand. The kiss became a little sloppy when Enjolras decided they needed lube.

His right hand, previously at Grantaire’s nape, shot to the night table next to the bed, opened a drawer and searched blindly. When he was thirty per cent sure he had what he was looking for, he opened the cap and squeezed a tiny amount of the substance into his hand, not bothering to warm it up before replacing his dry left hand with the right one.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” rasped Grantaire, but leaned into it nonetheless, breaking the kiss completely and looking at Enjolras’s utterly debauched face, feeling a sort of smug pride take over him. Then he noticed the tube next to the angel’s head. “That’s body lotion,” he laughed. Enjolras turned his head to look at the tube.

“Avon Silky Soft hand butter, actually,” he grinned, but continued stroking.

“We all have our skeletons.”

“I wanna see you come.”

Grantaire stopped dead in his tracks and for a moment Enjolras thought he’d said something wrong. He was about to apologise, but then Grantaire swore under his breath, batted Enjolras’s hand away from his prick and stroked quickly. Enjolras watched him do it hungrily.

“Grantaire,” he gasped unintentionally. Grantaire wasn’t stroking himself to completion, though, he just gathered an acceptable amount of Avon Silky Soft hand butter on his palm and started stroking Enjolras’s forgotten cock with a tight grip at the crown, and Enjolras quickly caught on, resuming his own activities and trying to imitate what Grantaire was doing to him, and it seemed to be working, because Grantaire buried his face next to his head.

“Fuck, Enjolras.”

“No, no, don’t hide your face. I need to see it. I need to see it. Please, please,” whispered Enjolras, fighting to keep his eyes open. He squeezed the prick in his hand and Grantaire lifted his head, responding to Enjolras’s request. Grantaire’s grip on him changed and tightened and he took a big breath, his own hand unintentionally freezing. He came a few seconds later with a surprised gasp.

“Yes,” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras didn’t pretend to understand what he meant. A few seconds later, when Enjolras was back from his high, Grantaire let go of his cock and moved his hand, a little stained with Enjolras’s release, to wrap around Enjolras’s hand, which was still loosely gripping Grantaire’s length. Enjolras did understand this time and he tightened his hold again after a mumbled apology that Grantaire completely ignored. Grantaire guided him into doing what he liked most, his movements firm but not particularly fast; Enjolras couldn’t choose whether to look at their dirty joined hands or at Grantaire’s dreamy expression. He opted for the second when he heard a cut-off groan, and avidly drank in the sight of Grantaire coming, feeling a weak stir of arousal at the feeling of Grantaire’s orgasm warm on his stomach and mixing with his own in their joined hands. They looked at each other with the same open-mouthed lust.

“I think I really like sex.”

Grantaire nodded dumbly.


	2. Flipped Tortilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol makes Enjolras enthusiastic, silly, playful, and, well, you know. What else did you expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Enjolras is drunk during this chapter. He does very enthusiastically consent (he initiates it, in fact), but he's still drunk.
> 
> The chapter title is what it is thanks to the attempts at Spanish I threw in there. It's funny because my first language is Spanish--which, by the way, might explain the typos in here? I think there aren't any, but if you find something that makes no sense at all or even negative sense, please tell me.

A little over a month later, Courfeyrac decided to throw a party because “why would you not throw a party when the other option is to _do_ throw a party?”, which basically meant, for no reason whatsoever. Enjolras didn’t oppose to going as he usually did, if only because he had nothing important to do. When he got there by himself, since Grantaire was at a lecture, Jehan immediately accosted him.

“Drink this, Enjolras,” he said, gesticulating excessively, handing him a cup of something transparent. “It tastes fruity!”

Enjolras looked at the drink and then at Jehan dubiously. “What is it?”

“Oh, don’t worry, it barely has any alcohol in it. It’s just a bit of flavoured vodka with lots of boost.”

“What’s ‘boost’?”

“Sugar!”

Enjolras glanced at the drink again and reluctantly lifted it to his lips. He tasted it for a moment. “It doesn’t taste so bad,” he admitted. Jehan grinned.

“Awesome! You should also try the sotol!” he said as he skipped away.

“The what?” he frowned. He sipped his drink and rolled his eyes, walking away to find a secluded corner.

Grantaire walked in an a little over an hour later. “Grantaire!” he heard someone, most likely Courfeyrac, shout. “Come here! Come, come, come!” he appeared out of the blue and pulled him by the arm to the living room, where Enjolras, Feuilly, Bahorel and Jehan were having a tickling fight. Grantaire felt his jaw open slightly.

“How the fuck did you manage _that_?”

“Boost and sotol.”

“Boost and _what_?! You gave sotol to Enjolras? _Sotol?!_ He’ll have the most horrible hangover ever. That shit is worse than tequila!” he exclaimed in horror, but then he started laughing and looked at Courfeyrac. “You gave sotol to Enjolras. How the fuck did you manage that, too?”

“Jehan is a minx.”

“Ooh, bloke’s so screwed.”

“Grantaire!” he heard Enjolras call happily; he contained the urge to laugh. “Hey, everybody, Grantaire is here!”

“Hey, Enj. Having fun?”

“Bahorel is a motherfricker,” he said, much to everyone’s amusement; Bahorel couldn’t even feign offense. “He likes to poke me and is a motherfricker. Oedipus. What an _arse_. Cactus.”

“What?” Feuilly laughed.

“Cactus up his arse,” he pointed at Bahorel and then looked at Grantaire with a dopey smile. “R, you have an arse. A nice one. Can I touch it? Pleaaase, let me touch it,” he stumbled to him quickly and kissed him wetly before Grantaire could even process his words. “I feel really good,” he announced when he broke away equally sudden. Grantaire really couldn’t react. Everybody turned away from them at last, going back to their own drink. “I think I’m a little bit tipsy,” he said conspiratorially.

“Are you sure you only drank boost and sotol?”

“Sotol tastes bad. I didn’t like it. Jehan made me drink, like, five. Five sotol. Sotoles. Cinco sotoles. Cinco de Mayo. Did you know sotol is a Mexican drink? Kinda like tequila.”

“Exactly like tequila.”

“But I drank it because everybody says it’s not as strong as tequila. Tequila is forty per cent alcohol,” Enjolras affirmed and Grantaire couldn’t help but snort.

“It’s not as strong, but you’re gonna get the worst hangover of this lot.”

“I’m not drunk, though. I’m n—just a little tipsy.”

“You just tried to speak Spanish,” giggled Grantaire. “You’re absolutely sloshed.”

“I can speak Spanish!” Enjolras frowned. “Marius taught me a few words. Grantaire es bonito. Grantaire es… yo es fiesta.”

Grantaire blushed furiously, but managed to be amused at the end. “You is party?”

“Oh, excuse me, Mr Rosetta Stone, not everyone can master, like, sixteen languages,” he rolled his eyes, but the movement made him sway a little bit, so he steadied himself, before considering his situation. “I think I may be a bit drunk.”

“Trashed, really.”

“Trash. Basura. That’s ‘trash’ in Spanish. Thank you, Marius. Actually, that one I learned from Dora the Explorer. Courfeyrac.”

“I could teach you a bit of Spanish, if you like. Maybe just oral, though; I can’t see why you’d want to learn how to write it.”

“Oral, oral. I like it when you do oral stuff with me—just not talking. Oh, I like your mouth.”

“Oh,” Grantaire’s blush worsened. “Your tongue gets loose with alcohol, then.”

“Speaking of tongues and oral, I have an idea. It’s a good one. Hear me out,” he said seriously before pushing Grantaire down to the nearest chair and standing in front of him like an angry parent. He probably decided he didn’t like it there because he climbed onto Grantaire’s lap not ten seconds later. “I really want to blow you,” he said lowly; his voice got lower down the register by the second. “Right now. Show me how. I reaaally wanna suck you off and lick you clean, oh, Gr’taire, please, let me. Blooowww. I feel so good.”

Grantaire’s mouth was dry; he couldn’t even part his lips. He had to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a few seconds. Enjolras whined.

“Don’t fall asleep!” he poked Grantaire’s Adam’s apple in protest and then latched on to it with his lips, making Grantaire’s eyes snap open. Enjolras hummed. “You taste good…” he continued lavishing his neck with little licks and sucks.

Grantaire, against his better judgement, didn’t stop him, but instead let his head fall back, giving Enjolras more space to cover. He exhaled heavily. Enjolras palmed at his chest.

“Don’t sleep, Grantaire, I wanna taste you,” he whispered into his ear. “You should drink one of those drinks Jehan gave me. They’ll wake you right up. Do you want me to get you one? They taste cute.”

Grantaire smiled and finally opened his eyes, pulling away from Enjolras. “You’re positively sloshed. And I’m very awake; I don’t need that poison.”

“Poison? No, no; Jehan said it was a little vodka with a boost, or something.”

“You know what boost is? Alcohol booster?”

“It’s just sugar, is it not? Jehan said sugar—it’s sugar.”

“Lots of sugar. It’s like… pouring an energy drink in a beverage. Which _boosts the alcohol level_ on the liquor. It’s unhealthy as fuck.”

“You’re one to scold me for drinking alcohol,” he grumbled.

“Dude, I’ve never had that shit. I like alcohol, not poison. Plus, that doesn’t even taste good; it’s like drinking the juice of a rancid apple.”

“Ugh, you just described tequila,” Enjolras scrunched up his nose before swaying and closing his eyes. “Oop, my eyes are whoopee. Wait.”

“Lets get you a bed,” he said gently. Enjolras looked down at his mouth and then nodded.

“Yeah, good idea. I feel like lying down.”

“Can you stand up?”

Enjolras snorted: “What am I? Two?”

“Drunk, you might as well be.”

“You underestimate my power!” he mock-shouted with a smile. Grantaire let out a little laugh.

“Did you… did you just purposely quote Star Wars? You totally did!”

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed with a grin, making Grantaire chuckle. He beamed. “You were the chosen one! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them!”

“Oh, my god, Enjolras,” he threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“You were my brother, Anakin,” giggled Enjolras before he leaned away and pulled Grantaire to his feet.

“What are you doing?” asked Grantaire, who was still laughing with fervour. A few of their friends glanced their way.

“I’m taking you to bed.”

“Oh, no,” he said through his laugh, “that won’t work. I’m immune to seduction by nerd quotes.”

“If you’re not with me, then you are against me!”

“Only the Sith deal in absolutes, Enjolras,” he replied in a serious tone before bursting into chuckles again. “Seriously, your seduction plans are very much useless. They’re not working at all.”

Enjolras stopped walking and looked at him with what could almost be described as a pout. Grantaire raised his eyebrows in expectance. Enjolras opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling with: “Into exile I must go. Failed, I have.”

Grantaire lost it. Enjolras took his chance and dragged him into Marius’s room, slamming the door behind them with Grantaire’s body. Enjolras immediately set after removing Grantaire’s clothes.

“Enjolras, stop it,” he laughed. “I’d rather you keep quoting Star Wars.”

“Into roleplay, are we?” spoke Enjolras saucily. “You be Anakin. I’m like Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Holy fuck, that’s disgusting. Qui-Gon and Anakin? You’re sick, mate. Plus, you’re totally Anakin: blond, hot and full of fury.”

“But he’s an imperialist!” he whined.

“I’ll be Han Solo for you, if you so wish, your highness.”

“I don’t like him. I haaate bounty hunters. But… hmm, hot,” he pulled Grantaire’s belt out of his trousers. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Are you telling me you’d have sex with Harrison Ford?” Grantaire laughed, too, and divested Enjolras of his shirt, immediately running his hands up and down his chest.

“You’re the one who has posters of Whatshisname in their room.”

“No, I have a poster of the Jedi and Sith in my room; it’s not my fault that Anakin is big and in the centre.”

“And you call me a nerd.”

“Listen, Princess—”

“Don’t start quoting Han Solo.”

“I take orders from just one person: me.”

Enjolras said nothing. After a bit of waiting, Grantaire smirked and put his hands over his own trousers, toying with the button coyly. “You know the next part? You totally do. Look at your face.”

“Fuck off,” huffed Enjolras.

“I’m not taking these off until you reply, Princess.”

“I thought we’d established I’m Anakin,” he tried. Grantaire chuckled.

“You’d rather be the Sith Lord responsible for the death of millions who’s just as imperial as the Emperor himself, instead of one of the leaders of the revolution? The leader of the Republic? Why, Annie, I’m disappointed.” Enjolras tried to reach for Grantaire’s trousers, but Grantaire twisted his hips away. “Let’s try again:” he grinned, “I take orders from just one person: me.”

Enjolras looked down at Grantaire’s crotch and sighed defeated. “ _It’s a wonder you’re still alive,_ ” he mumbled at last. Grantaire grinned.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, Your Worshipfulness!”

“I expect to be well paid. I’m in it for the money,” snapped Enjolras, going straight for the button of the brunet’s trousers before pausing slightly and adding, “More like, sex. I’m in it for the sex.” Grantaire caught on.

“Role reversal? I’m Leia now?”

“That’s not what she replies,” Enjolras sing-sang with a grin. Grantaire rolled his eyes but complied easily, acting out the part perfectly.

“Don’t worry about your reward. If sex is what you love, then that’s what you’ll receive.”

They burst into giggles. “I thought you said my seduction plot would fail, and look at you now, offering,” teased Enjolras, lowering Grantaire’s zipper, undoing the button and pushing the trousers down. He gripped his boyfriend’s arse with gusto for a few long moments.

“Yeah, well, clearly I was wrong.”

“I get what I want.”

“Yes, you do.”

He pawed at the front of Grantaire’s pants, where his prick was already half hard. Enjolras raised his eyebrows and Grantaire shrugged. He shrugged as well and dropped to his knees, inspecting what was in front of him with interest. Grantaire looked a bit surprised.

“So you were serious? You actually want to do this?”

Enjolras looked up for a moment and then mouthed his way down Grantaire’s navel, biting at the coarse hair leading the way. He sighed a little bit. “I wish I had a happy trail,” he said sadly.

Grantaire looked down. “Why? It’s unnecessary. And it looks a bit gross when you let it show in public.”

“Oh, no, it’s really hot. Really hot. Combeferre has it, too. I think Courfeyrac does, as well. It’s inappropriately hot. I feel like… incest.”

“Shite, I’d forgotten you were drunk. I’m not sure I wanted to know that about ‘Ferre.”

“I’m really not that drunk,” Enjolras said distractedly before lowering Grantaire’s pants and exploring eagerly with his mouth. Grantaire sighed contently.

“Can you do it alone?”

“Did you know I have no gag reflex?”

Grantaire blinked. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, I have no gag reflex,” he informed as he gripped Grantaire’s arse with both hands and kissed right at the base of his cock.

“Congratulations. Um, that was not my question, though,” said Grantaire a little uneasily when he felt himself hardening at a fast pace. “Are you really fine on your own? Sure you need no guidance? I mean, I have faith in you, but blowjobs are not as easy as handjobs.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t use my teeth,” Enjolras nodded when he felt like Grantaire was fully erect. “I read a tutorial.”

Grantaire laughed. “You read a tut— _ah!_ ” he looked down breathlessly. He was faced with Enjolras’s eyes blinking owlishly back at him with half of his prick in his mouth. He felt hands squishing his butt cheeks. “No gag reflex, huh?” his voice was small.

Enjolras slowly pulled away, suctioning slightly. He licked his lips. “No gag reflex,” he confirmed, before latching himself on to the head and playing with his tongue, finally closing his eyes and looking like he was enjoying himself greatly. This more than anything else made Grantaire’s knees tremble unsteadily; he moaned quietly and observed the happenings for a moment before choosing to tangle his fingers in the wild, disarrayed locks of blond hair and throwing his head back, banging it against the door, breathing harshly through his nose for the following sixty seconds, give it or take.

Enjolras hummed and pulled away with a dirty wet sound, Grantaire looked down in protest, but his mind dried up like a prune when he saw Enjolras’s red lips connected to him by a strand of saliva that really, _really_ should’ve looked disgusting.

“Bloody hell.”

Grantaire blinked once in confusion. “Did I say that out loud? I swear I just thought that. My filter is off.”

“No, I did,” said Enjolras with a low, raspy voice that struck pleasantly all the way down to his toes. “You’re being grossly quiet. I’m going to change that.”

With that, Enjolras stood up (not without a little difficulty), pulled Grantaire by the neck of his button-down shirt and dropped him onto Marius’s bed unceremoniously, working his shirt open surprisingly quickly. Grantaire pulled him down and kissed him, chasing the taste of alcohol in the blond’s mouth. Enjolras pulled away.

“I’m gonna mark you and bite you, okay? Yes, yes… you’re… very hot,” he ground his clothed hips against Grantaire’s damp skin. Enjolras saw the other man’s jaw clench to prevent any sound from spilling out and got inexplicably pissed. “For fuck’s sake, I’m gonna make you howl.”

Grantaire moaned helplessly. Enjolras shimmied down his body and pulled Grantaire’s trousers and pants, which were barely down his thighs, completely off, throwing them in the direction of the door. He spread the shirt wide open but didn’t remove it. He looked him up and down hungrily and then bit down on a nipple. Grantaire yelped. Enjolras _thoroughly_ soothed it with his tongue before deeming it sufficiently cared for and shifting so his mouth was right over the other one, but bypassed it and instead licked only around the perked little nub a few times, making Grantaire let out a drawn-out groan that was almost a pained moan. The bud only got harder, calling out for any kind of friction, but Enjolras simply blew cool air on it and moved on. Grantaire squirmed.

“Fuck, Enjolras, you can’t do that. I never knew that was even possible. Fuck, don’t leave it like that. What the fuck—where the fuck did you get that diabolical idea—I’m—”

Enjolras licked a broad stripe up his cock to shut him up—successfully. He moved his hands to grasp at Enjolras’s hair, but the blond intercepted his hands and pinned them next to his hips, rendering him immobile. Happy with his result, Enjolras sucked a hickey on Grantaire’s right hipbone. He made his way upwards with tiny, painful, sharp, delicious bites that had Grantaire breathless. He swirled his tongue around the ignored nipple once more and bit just under it on the fleshy mound of his pectoral, sucking another hickey into the skin, and that was more painful than Grantaire thought it would be, but looked beautifully red against the rest of his skin. Enjolras licked at the mark until Grantaire cried out to him.

Then, the blond moved up to the base of his neck, where he tasted the skin until it was completely red and sensitive, and he was sated. He lifted his head and they both stared at each other with heavily lidded eyes, Grantaire panting, speechless and boneless, with an irritated neck and a pulsing nipple. _Weird_ , he thought. _Weird, but hot_.

Enjolras leaned in and opened Grantaire’s mouth with his lips. Grantaire started kissing him sloppily, but Enjolras nudged him away and just sought out his tongue, and sucked. Grantaire groaned once, twice, and tried to free his wrists from Enjolras’s grip, but he wouldn’t relent. Enjolras gave one last suck, caressed the roof of his mouth with his tongue (making Grantaire groan loudly for the third time) and going down his body again, passingly touching the very tip of the tortured nipple with his tongue for less than half a second before leaning away and watching Grantaire cry out, the moisture quickly cooling down and bringing more pain than relief. The brunet tried to free his hands again and thrashed around when he didn’t succeed — _anything_ to get some friction on the hardened little nub of sensitized flesh, which was definitely more needy than his prick, but Enjolras decided he wanted to lavish the other nipple instead, again, the one that wasn’t in dire need of attention.

Grantaire was panting; breathless and speechless; he couldn’t even open his eyes. Enjolras watched the show for a few seconds before going down his torso and navel again, and swallowing down the entire shaft. He bobbed his head up and down, breathing through his nose calmly and sucking on the head every once in a while. When he felt Grantaire’s legs tensing even further and heard his pants get more shallow, he pulled away completely, but before Grantaire could even think about crying out in complaint Enjolras wrapped a hand around his cock without breaking the rhythm, and leaned up to tease just around his rock hard nipple one last time, before finally flicking lightly at the nub with his tongue and taking it between his teeth, suckling heavily. Grantaire croaked out a moan and tensed like a bow, gripping Enjolras’s nape like a lifeline, free to do so at last, and came painfully hard.

They both panted for what could’ve been a minute but just as easily could’ve been ten before Grantaire could finally open his eyes and look at Enjolras with hazy but wide eyes. Enjolras stared back blankly. Grantaire moaned. They stayed silent for a little while longer. When Grantaire could finally speak, he did so quietly.

“What the fuck was that?”

Enjolras rubbed his face against Grantaire’s slightly sweaty, hairy chest and then plopped down properly to lay his head upon his sternum. “A blowjob,” he replied simply. Grantaire heaved out a silent, single laugh.

“That was _not_ a blowjob. That was… that w… fuck.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you come?” he asked and looked down. Enjolras was still wearing trousers.

“No. I’m sleepy. G’night.”

“No, no. No, you must let me return the favour. It will be shitty, but I can’t leave you like—”

“I’m fine, R. Maybe next time,” the blond mumbled and tucked his arms between Grantaire’s boneless ones and his torso. He yawned. “Sleepy. Night.”

Grantaire lay speechless. What a turn of events, huh? He eventually got sleepy, too, so he wrapped his arms around Enjolras and closed his eyes. _I’ve created a monster_ , was his last thought, along with _I never knew I had sensitive nipples_.

Marius opened the door to his room a few hours later and promptly walked back out.

The next morning Enjolras ran to the nearest bathroom and puked for about five minutes. When Grantaire went to tend to him in only his boxers, he couldn’t really blame the others for staring at the hickey on his hip, at the trail of little red dents on his torso, the clearly over-sensitized nipples, irritated neck, more hickeys, and wild, _wild_ hair. Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Éponine followed him with their eyes wide as saucers, and open-mouthed.

“That… that’s… _Enjolras_ _?_ ” Éponine asked numbly.

“But he was sweet and virginal, like, two months ago,” mumbled Courfeyrac. Combeferre just gaped. Grantaire didn’t have the energy to even look at them.

“‘Bout a month and a half, actually,” he mumbled tonelessly. “I’m half dead, please put on the coffee. And tea for ‘Jolras. Retching.” He continued dragging his feet to the bathroom, where Enjolras was bemoaning his existence.

Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Éponine never really did get over it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was stupid and I really don't know how to write porn. That's why I'm writing lots of it. I'm sorry. Whatever. There was an attempt.  
> Disclaimer: I don't personally agree with Enjolras's opinions on hairy men.


End file.
